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god's acre.
He sees the weary mother droop,
Day after day;
Some brother 'neath his great load stoop,
Faint by the way.
He calls, and home the weary troop,
To rest for aye.
Day after day;
Some brother 'neath his great load stoop,
Faint by the way.
He calls, and home the weary troop,
To rest for aye.
Answer, O Death! art thou a foe,
That men should fear?
"I am the Guide, dost thou not know,
From here to There.
The darkest hour, that doth foreshow,
The dawn is near."
That men should fear?
"I am the Guide, dost thou not know,
From here to There.
The darkest hour, that doth foreshow,
The dawn is near."
God's Acre.
Rampside.
The warm wind gently waves the long green grass
Within 'God's Acre,' as with reverent tread,
Slowly and meditatively, we pass
The quiet resting places of the dead.
Within 'God's Acre,' as with reverent tread,
Slowly and meditatively, we pass
The quiet resting places of the dead.
From blue bright skies the sun shines warmly down,
Flooding the old graveyard with golden light,
Shining on lowly mound, and worn grey stone,
On marble cross, and gleaming headstone white.
Flooding the old graveyard with golden light,
Shining on lowly mound, and worn grey stone,
On marble cross, and gleaming headstone white.
